The Unknown Beloved(119)

The tension immediately released, and he knocked politely.

“Daniela? What are you doing? You can’t stay in there. You’ll get cold. And I want to visit.”

She didn’t answer him. The locker was empty, the drawers for the dead held nothing but lingering scents and fetid air. And it wasn’t cold.

“I’ll wait out here,” he said. She heard him moving around and the scrape of a stool. “Maybe we can just visit through the door.”

She heard the slosh of a bottle and the sound of an uncorking. “I don’t like being cold,” he said, smacking his lips.

“How long can one remain in the cold locker? You’re wearing that pretty dress. It won’t keep you warm.” He sighed, and she heard him take another long pull from whatever he was drinking. For several minutes he didn’t speak at all, but he was there.

She leaned against the door, still clutching the lock.

“Did you help him find me?” he asked. She jerked, knocking her head against the frame.

“Miss Kos?” He snickered. “Are you there?”

“Yes.”

“Ahh. You answered. Good. Good. I thought maybe you had already succumbed to the cold. You must keep moving. That will help stave it off.”

Francis Sweeney clearly did not know the refrigeration wasn’t working. If anything, it was uncomfortably warm in the locker. How long could she stay in here? It was not airtight. She supposed she could stay inside a good while, as long as she kept Francis Sweeney out.

“Did you help Mike find me, Miss Kos? I think maybe you did,” he said. “That wasn’t very nice of you. I did not interfere with your work. Why did you interfere with mine?”

“Mike?” she asked. She couldn’t help herself. She wanted to moan his name. To cry his name. He would suffer when he found her gone. He would mourn, and there would be no one to comfort him.

“Michael Malone. Michael Lepito. He has many names. He’s a spy, you know. Of course you know. He works with Eliot Ness. But now he’s gone, isn’t he?”

“Yes.” He was gone.

“I don’t think Eliot will be around much longer either. Cleveland deserves better. But I’ve so enjoyed our interactions. I will miss him when he goes. I have given him a few names too. Helpless Ness. Silly Ness. Hopeless Ness. Clueless Ness.”

Another long pause.

“Are you like me, Miss Kos? Or can I call you Daniela? Or Dani. Mike calls you Dani. I heard him talking about you. At the Hotel Cleveland. Did you know they kept me imprisoned at the Cleveland for a week?” He sounded delighted. “He and Eliot talked about you at great length when they thought I was sleeping. So foolish of them. Mike seemed quite taken with you. But so pessimistic. He also said you see everything. Do you see everything, Daniela? Is that how they knew about me?”

“No. I don’t see everything.”

“You don’t?”

“No.”

He was silent for a moment, considering. “I confess . . . I was quite upset at you when I realized. I saw you at the gala, dancing with him. Daniela Kos and Michael Malone. Together. The undertaker and the spy.”

He’d seen them at the gala. He’d been watching them before they were watching him.

“I left you alone all these years. Let you write your little notes and play with the dead. There was room here for both of us. I did not interfere with your work. Why did you interfere with mine?” he repeated.

He’d used the morgue.

It was the perfect spot. And she’d never felt him. Why would she? His dead and hers were not the same. His dead did not arrive via the city morgue. They came drugged and trussed and . . . alive. Then he scattered his dead all over town. He didn’t leave his victims for her to clean and dress. And name.

“I know all about you, Daniela. I’ve known you for years. I know your family. I know everyone in Kingsbury Run. But do you . . . know . . . who I am?” he asked.

He was not asking her if she knew his name. They’d already established that.

“You’re the Butcher,” she said. No need to pretend any longer. It wouldn’t save her to play dumb.

“Yes. I am,” he said. “And I am Francis and Frank and Edward and Eddie.”

“You are not Edward and Eddie. You killed Edward and Eddie.”

“Yes. But they are still here. They won’t leave me alone.” He grew quiet again, drinking. She heard his weight shift and settle, and for a moment she thought he might have drifted off. She pressed her ear against the door, straining to hear him.

“Would you like to come out now?” he asked suddenly, his voice loud, and she bit back a cry and bore down on the lock.

He laughed and sighed. “No? That’s a pity.”

Another hour passed in silence. Francis Sweeney drank, and Dani sat and then stood, the room growing more and more unbearable.

“I’m going to go now, Daniela. You’ve made it so easy for me. I will miss you. I suspect many will. Do you think Mike will come back when he hears? I hope so.”

She heard a clanking and a rattling of the handle, and a small scream escaped her throat.

“I’m not coming in. Don’t worry. But you’re not coming out either. Farewell, dear girl.”

Then he retreated, his tread heavy. She held her breath, trying to track his progress. She thought she heard the entrance door open but couldn’t be sure. A high, narrow window covered by a metal grate sat at the southwest corner of the wall, and she pulled out the locker drawers, climbing them like stairs until she could see out through the window. In the moonlight, she could see Francis Sweeney walking down the street, pulling her wagon behind him. She frowned, puzzled, and then she began to weep.